


Vamplock

by ceywoozle



Series: One Word Bottomjohn Prompts [71]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, First Time, I'm so sorry, M/M, i don't know how i feel about the characterisations in this, not actual vamplock, random crap that cey spews out, this whole thing is ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 14:20:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5970121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceywoozle/pseuds/ceywoozle





	Vamplock

_Blood, bright red and warm, like the touch of a hand against his neck. John could feel it sliding downwards, slipping below his collar bone and getting caught by his shirt._

_“Sherlock,” he moaned, his body writhing on the cold stone floor of the castle dungeon. “Feed on me!”_

“John?”

John freezes. The laptop is a little bit too heavy against his lap right now.

“John!”

“Shit.” Definitely Sherlock. John hadn't even heard him come in. He was supposed to be at the morgue all morning.

“Um. Here,” John calls back, slamming the lid of the laptop closed and wincing.

Sherlock's steps sound on the steps and a moment later he appears in the doorway, both eyebrows raised in some surprise to find John in bed in the middle of the day. John half expects him to ask if he's feeling alright but Sherlock doesn't. Naturally not.

“I need the laptop,” Sherlock says instead.

“I'm using it.”

Sherlock looks at it, closed on John's lap. “Yes, clearly you're very busy,” he says and strides into the room.

John clutches at it somewhat desperately. “It's my bloody laptop, Sherlock!”

“Yes, well, mine is broken.”

“Because you spilt bloody nitric acid on it!”

“I promise I'll bookmark whatever pornography you're currently watching for later.”

“I'm not watching porn, thanks, and that's not the bloody point anyway.”

“Yes, it is.” They glare at each other for a minute. Sherlock sighs. “Oh come _on,_ John!” he snarls. “Your eyes are dilated, you're flushed, there's sweat at the back of your neck. The only thing you're using the laptop for right now is to hide your erection,” and as he says it he dives forward and snatches the computer off of John's lap.

John yelps and makes a grab for it, but he's preoccupied by the fact that the corner of the laptop had dug into his lap in a way that leaves him gasping for all the wrong reasons, and he watches Sherlock dance out of range with a triumphant expression before vanishing down the stairs.

John watches him go and wonders how long before he can get up so he can kill him.

Not that long, it seems. He can hear the silence descend on the flat like an actual noise and John squeezes his eyes shut and hopes he will die here. Now. Right this second. He lies there and waits for oblivion to take him.

Sherlock comes first.

“John?”

John opens his eyes. Covering his lap is not a problem anymore, not the way Sherlock is standing in the doorway carrying the laptop open in one hand, a look on his face that John can't even begin to read. Is it horror? Is it amusement? Is it impending murder?

“Sherlock. Just...it was a joke, yeah? I thought it would be funny.”

“Funny.”

“It gets mentioned. On forums.”

“Forums. What forums?”

“Forums. Um. About us.”

“There are forums about us.”

“Yep.”

“And you go on them.”

“Yep.” John is resigned at this point. He can see the words of the fan fiction he had been reading flash across his vision as the laptop wavers in Sherlock's hand.

_Sherlock Holmes' cock was long and thin and white, just like his teeth. It was a perfect fit for John Watson in every conceivable way._

“Oh God.”

Sherlock looks at the screen. “What is this called?” he asks.

John's not entirely sure he heard right. “What?”

“This. What am I? Why are my teeth so large?”

“Vampire. It's ah...a trope. It's called, um, Vamplock.” In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Interesting. And I...suck you?”

“My blood.”

Sherlock looks at him. Looks back at the screen. _“'John could feel the scrape of too-long teeth over the sensitive ridge of his swollen cock. He inhaled sharply as, in a gentling counterpoint, that long, agile tongue wrapped itself around his length.'”_

“Well. Among other things.”

There's something glittering in Sherlock's eye and John isn't sure that he likes it.

“So,” Sherlock says. “Presumably, this is what you were reading when I found you. And thus, presumably, this is what gave you...” he glances down at John's lap and clears his throat. John can feel himself turning red.

“Could we please, _please_ just forget this ever happened?” John says, and he can hear the pleading in his own voice. “I swear I'll never look at the bloody thing again. Just...forget it. _Please?”_

Sherlock looks at him sceptically. “Rather difficult thing to forget, John.”

“Shit,” John says miserably and he puts his hands over his face, wondering how the hell he's going to afford a place on his own. He can't believe he's been so careless and so bloody _stupid._

“Personally,” Sherlock says, the word emerging slowly. “I prefer the bit at the bottom here. _'Sherlock's cock, so long, so perfect, was a narrow thrusting sword, penetrating deeply and stabbing John over and over from behind until he was sure he could feel it all the way in his belly. His own cock was trapped on the hard floor underneath him, the rough cold stones doing nothing to calm the raging blood trapped inside its silky sheath.'_ I'm not entirely certain of the realism of it,” Sherlock says. “I'm convinced a 'rough cold stone' wouldn't be entirely conducive to a sustained erection. However,” he says, and he pauses and John can _feel_ him watching him. “I'm willing to give it a try.”

John looks up. Somehow, without him even noticing, Sherlock's moved closer. Close. Far, _far_ too close. John could reach out and touch him if he wanted to. He doesn't.

“Sherlock,” he says carefully. _“You_ are making fun of me.”

“No, John,” Sherlock says. “I'm really rather grateful. I hadn't read this one yet. _Vamplock.”_ He pauses. Tastes the word on his tongue. “Yes, I rather like it. Remind me to show you the one with the werewolves when we're done.”

“Done?” John squeaks, because Sherlock has closed the laptop now and he's moving even closer, one knee sliding onto the bed and then the other until John is leaning back and Sherlock is leaning over him, the laptop forgotten on the mattress beside them.

“Yes,” Sherlock says and that glitter is back and John is absolutely certain about how he feels about it now. “But it could be quite a while.”


End file.
